


Time For A Change

by kraken_creature



Series: Ineffably Ever After [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is lovely, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Established Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Crowley, Genderqueer Character, Genderqueer Crowley (Good Omens), Idiots in Love, M/M, Other, Post-Canon, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), South Downs Cottage (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 10:55:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20581349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kraken_creature/pseuds/kraken_creature
Summary: Within a moment, a human-shaped creature was standing naked in the greenhouse.Crowley took a deep breath and rocked back and forth on feet- real feet, and stretched toned arms overhead, clasping and unclasping long fingers simply for the joy of it.This felt right.-Crowley spends the summer as a snake, enjoying the warm sun, and becomes female upon turning back into a human-shape. How best to tell Aziraphale the news?Cute headcanon about Crowley being genderfluid and Aziraphale loving them for who they are. Mostly Crowley's POV and switches between male/female pronouns as they see themselves.





	Time For A Change

It had been a long, stiflingly hot summer and Crowley had spent more of it than usual in his snake form.

Aziraphale had been accepting, of course, the first time that Crowley became a snake and spent a few days lying in his greenhouse. That was seven years ago. It wasn’t Crowley’s favourite form but it was relaxing to uncoil in the heat, basking in a body that was pleased by the unusual British sun. He scared away any mice that were trying to sneak into the cottage and lounged, watching when Aziraphale occasionally came in to talk to him or check on the plants.

Aziraphale coped with the heat in his own way, hanging his coat and waistcoat in the wardrobe upstairs and switching to linen trousers. Even in the shape of a snake, Crowley was still essentially himself and enjoyed the sight of Aziraphale moving around, his shirt sleeves rolled up to show his forearms and the lighter clothes showing the curves of his arse; he made a note to compliment Aziraphale on those trousers, once he was in a form that could really express his appreciation.

In the evenings, when the sun sank low, Aziraphale would instinctively come and find Crowley. He would gently pick him up and drape him around his own shoulders. He carried Crowley like this into the living room, or to bed, and would sit up and read to him and share his body heat until the morning warmed them both again.

This summer felt different. Crowley turned sooner than usual, leaving a written list of directions to help Aziraphale care for the plants and leaving the plants with entirely different instructions on how not to disappoint him; he would, after all, still be there keeping an eye on them all and Aziraphale was becoming a capable stand-in gardener, if a little paternal for Crowley’s taste.

But the plants weren’t his biggest concern. Crowley felt itchy and uncomfortable. He had paced around irritably, snapped at the roses with half-formed insults, and was less and less comfortable being naked around Aziraphale. He still desired the angel, in a sense, but something in him had shifted. He assumed it was the season, and that the best thing to do (for himself and to avoid causing insult) was to remove himself from this lanky, constraining body. He was already spending more time outside or in the greenhouse, anyway, and had found himself sneering at his own reflection when he caught sight of it in the windows. This was no good. A change was definitely needed.

So Crowley had taken Aziraphale out for a wonderful meal in mid-June, given him one hell of a blowjob (keeping his own clothes on), and then slithered out of bed in the morning with the angel’s best wishes.

It was now a Friday in September and it could be argued that Crowley’s long, lazy summer was becoming an autumnal sulk. In previous years he would have changed back by now, but he still didn’t fancy the idea of being a man again. He didn’t feel entirely _right_ as a snake and had admitted to himself, if not to Aziraphale, that it hadn’t been as satisfying as usual to begin with, but he intended to stay as he was until a better idea came along. He felt unsettled, but neither of the two options before him were winning him over.

Crowley was contemplating what to do with himself when he heard movement.

“Crowley? Are you awake, my dear? Ah, there you are!”

Aziraphale picked up the metal garden chair that stood in the corner of the greenhouse and brought it near to where Crowley was, resting on the earth of a raised planter. He seated himself neatly and leaned forward, his chin propped on his hands and his elbows on his knees so that he was nearer to Crowley’s eye level.

“How are you, dearest?” He spoke fondly, his smile warm.

Crowley flicked his tongue and appreciated the smell-taste of Aziraphale, overlaid with the hints of cinnamon toast that he must have eaten. It was the smell of being comfortable; it was the smell of home.

Aziraphale’s smile broadened at the small sign of recognition. He had become adept at reading snake body language and gestures. “I had a call from Anathema. She’s invited us to visit with her and Newton this weekend. Would you like to come?”

_Hiss._

“No, no, of course not. They’ll understand. But do you mind awfully if I go?”

_Hisssss._

“Well yes, naturally. Will you be quite alright on your own though?”

_Hiss._ A pause. _Hiss-ssss hiss._

“Oh I thought I would fly, actually. Been a while since I stretched the old wings out and Tadfield is quiet enough that no one will notice, especially if I arrive at night.”

Crowley considered this for a moment. It had been done before, their cottage being isolated enough and the garden sheltered enough that nobody saw the creatures with fifteen-foot wingspans come and go.

Slowly, Crowley began to move toward Aziraphale, who stayed relaxed but perfectly still. Crowley worked his way up Aziraphale’s arm and along the back of his shoulders, resting his head against his neck.

Crowley felt Aziraphale speak as much as he heard it: “Oh, dear boy. I’ll only be gone for two nights.”

He flicked his tongue against Aziraphale’s throat, tasting the bodily warmth.

Aziraphale chucked. “You sweet thing. Come with me while I pack.”

In response, Crowley pulled his body further onto his shoulders and allowed the last of his tail to be carefully picked up and wrapped around Aziraphale’s torso. They walked like this through the house, and Crowley enjoyed the closeness until it was time for Aziraphale to leave.

By eleven p.m. Crowley was alone. The house was quiet and quickly cooling. The days had been growing colder and did not keep the heat as well as this cold-blooded form might have liked.

The Saturday warmed him a little. Crowley hissed over some yellowing leaves, glowered at the apple trees in the garden, and coiled into himself as the night drew in again.

By Sunday morning, Crowley knew that autumn had overtaken them. He was bored again, in a way that he hadn’t been in months, and too cold and restless to stay in this shape. It was time for a change.

Shapeshifting comes from feeling rather than thought. Most creatures who shapeshift have the force exerted on them from outside influences. They begin to feel particularly hairy, or feel like fluttering around on leathery wings, or simply feel rather less than themselves until they no longer are something that their mother would recognise.

Crowley was unusual not simply because he was a shapeshifter but because of the level of control that he could frequently exert over his own form.

Admittedly, there were times when he was under emotional strain that he found himself distracted and his grasp of anatomy began to drift; slips were to be expected when one was under stress. Likewise, his yellow eyes were more or less snakey regardless of all efforts, and this was something that he had long ago accepted as part of his curse. Certainly, being a snake was part of Crowley’s damned nature, but being able to _choose_ whether to have legs or not, whether to bother breathing or not, whether to show his wings or not- that was far more freedom than most other creatures are afforded.

So it was that Crowley concentrated and began to feel “me”. It was an abstract feeling, but familiar enough to cling onto. It felt warm-blooded. It felt like limbs. It felt like height and hair. Crowley stretched upwards, balancing on a tail that became a pair of legs. Within a moment, a human-shaped creature was standing naked in the greenhouse.

Crowley took a deep breath and rocked back and forth on feet- real feet, and stretched toned arms overhead, clasping and unclasping long fingers simply for the joy of it.

This felt _right_.

Perhaps Crowley had delayed for longer than was necessary. Perhaps Crowley could have been human-shaped sooner, but it hadn’t seemed appealing before now. Now it was good; it was good in a way that was unexpected and delightful.

But cold. Crowley shivered and then began to walk, cautiously after so long without legs, through the house and up the stairs, toward the bathroom.

The shower ran warm for a moment before Crowley stepped in. The water rushed over and through long hair and pushed it into Crowley’s surprised face.

_My hair wasn’t this long before the summer. How in Satan’s name has it grown without me even wearing it?_

Crowley ran slender hands over wet cheeks and nose, ready to brush the sodden locks out of the way, and was stopped by the feel of something else brushing against inner arms.

Crowley looked down very slowly, pushing the hair aside, and saw breasts.

_Oh._

Neat, pert breasts. Crowley hadn’t seen them in several years, but there was no mistaking them or whose they were.

_Oh. Me. I wanted to be me again. _ _I wasn't specific, _ _and this is what I got.  
_

Crowley didn’t move. The water ran through her hair and down her back, soothing and warm. Several realisations began to slot into place as she stared at her own frame. The antsy feeling of being uncomfortable in a male body, not wanting to be naked or to be touched, not feeling quite as happy as usual in the snake shape, not wanting to change back into a human shape while knowing deep down that hiding in another species was not a long-term solution, her reluctance to turn into a man again at the end of the summer, and the instinctive way that her body had given her what she really needed.

After a moment, Crowley completed the action of brushing the hair back from her face. She rested one hand against the wall, supporting herself as she leaned forward. She peered slowly past her breasts and downward, between her legs, to confirm...

_Yep. Definitely female._

Crowley dried herself and dressed slowly, dazedly, in skinny jeans and a baggy sweater. She had never before changed gender without intending to, but gender had never before meant so much to her.

Crowley had changed gender for work and for pleasure, and sometimes just out of boredom, but she had been male since the apocalypse was cancelled. She knew with a sinking feeling that the reason she hadn’t changed sooner and scratched this particular itch was because of Aziraphale. He had known Crowley forever- literally, by human standards of time- and had never reacted to Crowley’s changing identity, but that was before they were in a relationship. They had only been intimate in male forms. How would he respond now?

_I can’t change back. Not yet. I need this. He has to understand that I need this._

_Maybe he won’t._

_He will._

_But he won’t fancy me. Not like this._

_I hope he’s not disappointed. I hope he’ll wait for me. Fuck, I’ve been a snake for nearly three months and he was fine to go without sex that whole time, why shouldn’t we just wait until I’m back to-_

Not ‘normal’. That was the wrong word entirely. All of this was normal for Crowley, although it might mean renegotiating their relationship. And her wardrobe.

Crowley hugged herself and sighed. She imagined this being difficult to explain, especially to one with such a constant sense of self-identity as Aziraphale.

Aziraphale. That sweet, sexy angel would be home soon.

_I’ve missed him._

_Oh I want him._

_I don’t want to be celibate, but that’s what it might take. I can’t force him to want me like this._

_He’s the good one. He’s the patient one. Surely he’ll understand. I still love him. Surely he’ll understand that that hasn’t changed._

_We could cuddle. We could hold hands. But I can’t even reassure him about how long I’ll want to stay like this- I don’t even know._

With a growing sense of inevitability, Crowley made a pot of coffee and went to wait for Aziraphale on the sofa, long limbs curled protectively under a blanket.

It was gone midnight before Crowley heard the beating of massive wings outside. The kitchen door opened and closed, and Crowley heard movement carried through into the hallway before Aziraphale stopped. He turned into the front room and saw Crowley’s head over the back of the sofa, the long, rust hair shining in the lamplight.

“Oh, my dear, you’ve changed! And your hair is long again,” Aziraphale gushed. He walked around the sofa and appraised the new style, his eyes crinkling with pleasure. He continued sincerely, “It looks _lovely_.”

Crowley couldn’t help smiling. Whatever might happen next, it was good to see Aziraphale again. She pulled her legs closer to herself to make room for Aziraphale to sit at the other end of the sofa.

“How is everyone?” Crowley asked. She hoped that the voice wouldn’t give her away before she had time to explain- it had changed a little, and Aziraphale didn’t seem to notice.

“Oh fine, yes. Anathema sends her best. Adam was home from university for the weekend too, and it was marvellous to catch up with him. He’s grown so much! Says that we should visit him in Brighton.”

Crowley nodded. “Yeah, we could drive over. Ahh, was the flight ok?”

“Yes, yes. I prefer having a view in the daytime, but it’s safer this way. Newt met me when I arrived outside the village. Such a nice young man.”

“Nmm.”

“Now, tell me,” Aziraphale trilled, placing a hand on the blanket over Crowley’s leg, “how long have you been back?”

“Just since this afternoon. Got cold. Felt time for it.”

“Of course. It will be good to have you around the house again- not that I mind your ‘summer breaks’. And I must admit that I haven’t slept at all. It isn’t the same without you in bed with me.”

Crowley clenched her hands together and looked down at them. She spotted the black nail polish that had been miracled onto her longer-than-usual fingernails and worried anew what Aziraphale would say.

“Hngh.” Crowley swallowed. “Look, I have to tell you something.”

Aziraphale leaned in and Crowley stiffened. He brushed the hair gently back from her face and ran his fingers through the long strands.

“This is very lovely. Long hair always did suit you, and you haven’t had it in so long.”

“Not since we were at the Dowlings’ house,” Crowley agreed.

“Yes, you cut it after you stopped being Nanny. What made you decide to change it now, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Crowley snorted a short, sad laugh. “To say I decided is a bit strong.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale’s hand came to rest on the back of her neck, rubbing gently. “Well it’s beautiful.”

“Look, angel,” Crowley tried again. This time there was no interruption. “Angel, the hair isn’t the only thing that’s different.”

Aziraphale sat back slightly, brought up short by Crowley’s tone. He gathered his hands into his own lap. “What’s wrong, my dear?”

Crowley huffed a great sigh and dove in: “I’m a woman. Now. I’m a woman now. I changed back this afternoon and this is what I got.”

“A woman?”

“Yes. Under here,” Crowley said, gesturing at the sloppy sweater and downward. “The whole deal.”

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah, well- I don’t know. Yes?” Crowley took a deep breath and glanced at Aziraphale. His face was unreadable; the smile was gone, but his expression was still soft, concerned. Crowley turned away again and focused on the opposite wall. “Yeah. I like it. It’s been ages and sometimes I fancy a change and I didn’t really think about it before the summer, but I wasn’t happy. I kind of need this. I just didn’t think it was an option because…”

The silence hung for only a moment before Aziraphale prompted gently, “Because of what?”

Crowley huffed again, shrugging her shoulders massively. “Because you’re gay. Alright? I didn’t think it would suit us because you’re gay.”

“But I’m not.”

Crowley’s head snapped around to face Aziraphale. “Erm, what? Sorry, what?”

“I’m not gay,” he asserted, his tone still gentle.

“No, now come on.”

Aziraphale shrugged one shoulder lightly.

“But- but you went to Pride this year. And what about all your gentleman’s clubs you used to go to? And the salons? Yeah, those.”

“Crowley, I’m no more gay than I am human.”

“Well you’ve put a lot of effort into looking gay then.”

“No, I haven’t,” Aziraphale said softly. “Have you ever known me to act differently? I’ve been this way since before there were any gay humans. And, when LGBT communities eventually developed, I found that I enjoyed the company of those people. I could be myself with them, and sometimes help them. None of them judged me, and everyone else took their ease when they could label me as gay and a man. It makes sense to the humans. It doesn’t bother me.”

Crowley still looked adrift, although she was starting to understand. She nodded slightly and Aziraphale continued, “My dear girl, I present as male but that’s not who I am. And I can’t be gay because I’m not a man and because I haven’t any interest in men. I am only interested in you.”

”Urmph. Ok, but-”

“There are no ‘but’s. I know that you’re queer and you have always been beautiful. However you are, however you express yourself, it’s you. And I love you.” Aziraphale smiled and chucked a little, taking Crowley’s hand. “If anything, I’m Crowley-sexual.”

Crowley tried to sneer at the turn of phrase, but it turned quickly into a smile. She began to relax as Aziraphale stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. She glanced furtively at their hands and back up at Aziraphale’s sincere face. “You don’t mind then? It wouldn’t… put you off me?”

“I don’t mind at all. I’m actually rather curious. I’m just so very sorry that you were uncomfortable for my sake.”

Crowley smiled and squeezed Aziraphale’s hand. She had no clever way of expressing her gratitude and relief. She knew that there might yet be an adjustment period, but a weight had been lifted from her.

“May I kiss you?” Aziraphale asked, almost reverently.

Crowley nodded nervously. Aziraphale brought his free hand up to cradle her cheek and placed a long, gentle kiss against her lips. They parted only briefly, and then came together again. A squeak of contentment and belonging escaped Crowley and she melted into Aziraphale, shifting her legs around and leaning further into their embrace. Aziraphale’s hand drifted over her hair again and down to her shoulders, wrapping around her and pulling her in as their lips parted, ready to envelop her against himself. She nuzzled into his neck and inhaled deeply; the smell was different to a human sense, but no less lovely.

“Promise me something, Crowley.”

“Mmm?”

“Please promise me that you won’t ever be less than yourself again.”

She wrapped an arm around Aziraphale’s stomach and sunk in against him.

_Definitely feels like me._

_Definitely smells like I’m home._

**Author's Note:**

> I've avoided touching the concept of their genders until now but this had taken over my brain a little, especially because of all the effort that Gaiman and others have put into stressing the fact that Crowley and Aziraphale aren't gay or male or even human but are very much in love. It seemed about time that they tackle the subject themselves, and this is how I imagined the conversation going. I hope you enjoyed it.


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